Speaking of which: “Kite, we’ve heard Reapers are having some internal issues. Like, folks are really mad at Jeremiah. What’s your take on that?”
Scout’s eyes widened at my question, but then she smiled a little. She must have figured out where I was going.
“Only that the hierarchy’s getting nervous.”
“Hierarchy?” I asked.
“The Scions,” Scout put in. “Jeremiah and the others. The ones who lead the rest of them into committing heinous acts.”
“Switzerland,” Kite reminded her, and she gave him a canny smile.
“So why are they getting nervous?” I asked. “We’ve heard there are lots of rumors floating around the sanctuaries. Are the rumors making folks nervous?”
Kite shook his head. “My theory? People are nervous, and the rumors are how they’re coping.”
“How so?” Scout asked.
“Well, there are two tiers within the Dark Elite. Just like with Adepts, there are the ones who fight the war—who hang out in the sanctuaries and are in touch with the leadership, and there are the ones who stay home and mind their business. They’re called the ‘old ones.’ They keep their magic quietly. They take energy a little at a time. Slowly. Carefully. They don’t get wrapped up in the politics, and they tend to believe in fairy tales.”
“Fairy tales?” I repeated.
Kite nodded. “Think old-school fairy tales—the terrifying kind where everybody learns an important lesson about wandering around in the dark alone. Only they tend to think of them more like history than children’s stories.”
Okay, that was weird. But it got weirder.
Kite looked around, then leaned in. “Anyway, last week a few of these old-school types come in, and they’re fretting about leadership, and one of them mentions this old Scottish fairy tale about a boy named Campbell.”
“Who was he?” I asked.
“Supposedly, he led an army against the evil baron who was controlling their area of Scotland. He was helped by a band of fairies and pixies—little magical creatures—but after he won control of the country, he became as evil as the guy he’d replaced. Eventually, he banished the fairies and pixies from his country.”
Scout and I exchanged a glance. It was sad, sure, but an old fairy tale didn’t exactly help us figure out who was making trouble in modern-day Chicago.
“I don’t get it,” Scout said. “What does this have to do with Reapers?”
“They’re repeating the story like it’s gospel,” Kite said. “Every time they talk about Jeremiah, someone brings up the tale of Campbell.”
“Okay,” Scout said, “but maybe they’re just saying the grass is greener, or whatever. You know, don’t complain about what we have, ’cause the next guy could be worse?”
“Honestly,” Kite continued, “I don’t know if they believe it or if they just want to. They’re completely without magic right now, and they want someone to blame. Jeremiah’s the obvious choice. I think the rumors are making the Scions nervous. Rumors have power, after all.” He slid us a glance. “Have you heard anything else?”
“Not really,” Scout said, and Kite frowned.
Maybe, I thought, it was time to get more specific. “Kite, have you seen Sebastian Born in here lately?”
He blinked, then seemed to mull it over. “Sebastian? Not for a few days. Again, that’s probably because of the blackout.”
“Could you give us a call if he comes in again?” I asked.
“Is there anything in it for me? I mean, to be fair, I am running a business here. And business is slow.”
I was already committed, so I kept pushing along. “How about information?”
He perked up. “What did you have in mind?”
Scout had mentioned that trying to take her Grimoire was a breach of magical etiquette. Maybe if Kite knew about it, and spread the word about it, Reapers would get embarrassed enough to back off. Long shot? Sure. But I was grasping at straws.
“Members of the Dark Elite broke into St. Sophia’s today,” I finally said.
His eyes widened. “Oooh, that is interesting. Why did they do it?”
I glanced at Scout. She nodded. “They’re trying to take magical property that doesn’t belong to them. A spellbook.”
Kite’s mouth dropped into an “O.” “You are not serious.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said. Literally.
Kite stood up again. “That’s definitely interesting. If he comes in, I’ll call you.” He flattened out his box and glanced down at Scout’s basket. “If you’re ready, I can head over to the register and check you out?”
She picked through the stash. “Yep. Got everything I need.”
“Cool,” he said, and we followed him back to the register. He slipped each item into a paper bag with handles after scanning them in. When he was done, he pulled off the receipt and handed it to Scout, who looked it over and pulled a wad of cash from her pocket. Kite took Scout’s money and handed over her bag.
“Thanks, Kite.”
“You’re welcome, Scout. You girls try to have a nice day.”
We always tried; we just weren’t always successful.
* * *
“So now you want to follow Sebastian? Do you think he’s a bad guy?” she asked when we were out the door and a few steps down the street.
“I have no idea,” I said. “And that’s exactly my point. Maybe he really wants to help us. Maybe he doesn’t. I don’t think there’s any harm in listening to him . . . or in keeping an eye on him.”
“I guess. I’m glad we went in there, but I’m not really sure it was helpful. I mean, a fairy tale? How could that possibly help us?”
“I have no idea, unless . . .”
She stopped and looked at me. “Unless what?”
An idea began to blossom. “What if the old ones don’t think it’s just a fairy tale?”
Scout frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What if they’re not just repeating the story because it’s like a symbol, but because they think someone named Campbell is going to overthrow Jeremiah?”
She waved a hand. “That’s not the way fairy tales work. They’re just repeating them because they’re nervous about what might happen if someone tries to kick him out—and someone worse gets put in charge. And PS, a little warning about Kite. He’s well-intentioned, but he tends to be kinda dramatic. Just because he heard people talking about it doesn’t mean it’s a big deal.”